


What Lies Beneath the Ocean

by little_abyss



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Comfort, Developing Relationship, F/M, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, Love Confessions, Sharing a Bed, Unresolved Emotional Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-11
Updated: 2017-11-11
Packaged: 2019-01-31 20:06:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,020
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12689334
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/little_abyss/pseuds/little_abyss
Summary: The Iron Bull doesn't know how to put the way that he feels into words.  Herah doesn't need him to.





	What Lies Beneath the Ocean

**Author's Note:**

  * For [GoddessTiera](https://archiveofourown.org/users/GoddessTiera/gifts).



He’s so warm, and feels so safe.  When did he last feel this way?  The Iron Bull -- Hissrad, Ashkaari, whoever he is now -- he doesn’t know.  Perhaps he never has.  Lying here, in this deep, wide bed, next to her, that’s what he feels: so warm, so safe.  And it’s strange, because it’s more luxury than either of them have been used to; the feather-stuffed mattress, the soft woollen coverlet, servants and warming pans and all sorts of fancy shit.  Trust the Orlesians to be able to sleep in this kind of opulence.  He knows what it is, of course -- it’s opulence to distract the eye and to cover the cesspool beneath.

With all that’s gone on tonight, this is the  _ last _ place either of them should feel safe.  What a night… Watching her sleep now, it seems like it’s such a small thing.  He knows it’s not -- not at all.  She’s a Tal-Vashoth, and she’s just decided the next Emperor of Orlais.  He smirks, watching her sleep.  The flutter of her lashes, the soft swell of her lips, the worn-smooth edge of her broken horn, the faint blush on her beautiful skin.  The way they had danced, under the moon, hesitantly at first, but the way she’d pressed her body into his, the way she had watched him with those brilliant, bright eyes... Bull smiles a little to himself, swallowing against the lump in his throat.  He doesn’t think he’s ever felt this way about anyone else.  Probably because it’s so damn dangerous.

 

The skin of her hip under his hand is soft, and she shifts slightly as he runs his hand over her belly.  “Bull,” Herah murmurs without opening her eyes, her voice husky with sleep, “Go back to sleep.”

“Hey, now,” he grins, “I was asleep when you came back, after you’d finished talking to your advisors about what happens next.  Remember?”

“Yeah,” she grunts, her eyes still closed, “You said I still smelled like blood.”  Her lips curl into a small smile and she sighs happily.  He chuckles.

“You did.  It was pretty hot.”  He leans closer to her, close enough to press his nose gently under the point of her jaw against the warm skin.  Herah laughs and makes a small moaning noise as Bull inhales deeply.  

“Aw,” he breathes, “You washed it off…”  Softly, he kisses her throat, tiny kisses, his whole body alive to hers, some part of his mind clawing at him, struggling with this feeling, the depth of it, feeling as if he is drowning.  Herah laughs and shifts.

“Of course I did,” she tells him, moving out from underneath his hand and mouth, until she’s resting with her head propped up on her hand, elbow on the bed, a mirror of his posture.  “I’m not a complete savage.”

“Hey,” he tells her seriously, the smile from a moment before gone suddenly, “You’re not a savage at all.  Fuck what those Orlesians say.”

She snorts and rolls her eyes, then looks at him, smirking.  “I don’t care if they think I’m a savage.  It works.”  Herah arches an eyebrow and her smirk widens, “Doesn’t it,  _ The Iron Bull _ ?”

He laughs.  “Yeah, yeah,” he tells her, and reaches out a hand, softly cupping her cheek.  She leans into it, turning slightly to kiss his palm.  Bull sighs and swallows, suddenly nervous.

“Hey,” he says softly, “We have fun, don’t we?”

Herah’s smile is gone quickly, and he feels her body tense slightly.  “Yeah,” she says warily, “We do.  What’s this about?”

“Just stating a fact,” he tells her, and Herah moves her head back slightly, her eyes narrowing.  It’s a suspicious gesture; he could use it to his advantage, let her down easy now before this gets deeper in than it needs to… before he gets deeper in than he can control.   _ Too late _ , some little part of his mind speaks up, and The Iron Bull feels an icy lance of fear in his gut.  

 

Herah’s still watching him, still cautious.  Bull takes a deep breath.  “You know what I am,” he tells her quietly, not looking away from her scarlet eyes, so bright, even in the shaded gloom of this borrowed bed.  “And you know what we agreed to, when we started this.”

Silently, Herah nods, waiting.  Bull echoes the gesture, continuing in the same soft tone, “So, I gotta know… because the way I feel about what we do… what we are… it’s changing.  And… and I’m fucking scared.”

 

Her eyes have lost their narrowness, and her lips are parted slightly.  But she waits, still as stone.  Again, he mimics her, then whispers, “I don’t wanna say it.”

“You don’t have to,” she whispers back, and then her hand comes out from beneath the blankets, taking him around the back of the neck, dragging his face closer to hers.  Gently, she puts her forehead against his, and he can feel it, it’s everywhere, it’s in the tension of the moment, the shiver of her breath, the way her nails dig into his skin.  This is love, and it’s too big, it’s wider than he’d ever expected, and no, he feels as if he’s drowning in it, he’s drowning until she murmurs, “I feel it too.  I’m scared too.”

 

The Iron Bull takes a breath.  And, quite suddenly, he laughs softly, the tension between them breaking at the sound, pressing his own forehead closer still to Herah’s.  “You’re amazing, kadan.  You know that, right?”

“I know,” she chuckles, and leans forward slightly, kissing him gently.  “And you know I think you’re pretty amazing too, don’t you?”

“Yeah,” he admits.  She laughs softly again and shakes her head, then sighs.

“Good. Now go back to sleep, qalaba.”

“Yes, Boss,” he chuckles.  There will have to come a time again soon when they speak of this again -- but for now, it is enough to know that she feels the same.  There’s a safety in that, a warmth in the commonality of it, and knowing this, the Iron Bull settles himself once more in the bed.  Soon enough, his eyes close, and he sleeps.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for this lovely prompt! I hope you enjoyed the treat :)


End file.
